


All This and Heaven Too

by TheWolfWhoWaited



Series: This is the World, Broken and Full of Broken People [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Angst, Bones at the first part, But mostly angst, Demons, F/M, Fluff, Minor Canon-divergence, PTSD, Romance, Witchcraft, Witches, bondmates, ish, season 4, tags will be added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3960583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolfWhoWaited/pseuds/TheWolfWhoWaited
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragged into Hell, Valerie finds herself in the clutches of demons, taking what they give in stride, but when an new-comer takes up the blade, her strength fails her.<br/>Saved from a light and brought back into the world, Valerie joins forces with the Winchesters to stop the coming of the Apocalypse. With the powers that got her into Hell in the first place, and a secret legacy that would damn her before Heaven and the Hunters, she struggles to survive.... and figure out how to manage the angel Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming Back All Damaged

**Author's Note:**

> So, first time writing any of the Supernatural characters. Comments are welcome, but please be nice. For those who have never seen Bones, no biggie, it's only gonna be in the first chapter.  
> Also, not a retelling of the season. Will add in some of the major episodes, and events, but I don't want to write it and you guys don;t want to read it. If you do, however, I can point you to some good ones.  
> The events that deviate from canon will probably butterfly-effect. I plan on this to be a multi-part, not overly-long series. So where they go, nobody knows. (Yes lets start with a lame rhyme thing?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valerie rejoins the world of the living, though not without consequences.

She couldn't breathe.

Valerie bolted upright, taking deep, gulping breaths. 

She was in a lab, and there was glass and broken equipment all around.

Why was she alive? The last thing she remembered was- no. If she was back, she didn't need to think about  _that_.

"What the- what happened to my lab?!" A disheveled brown-haired woman came running into the main area, minding the glass. Alarms went off, the remains of the doors to the lab closing, though the lights couldn't flash with the bulbs broken.

Getting her bearings, Valerie tried to stand, but slipped, though managed to grab the table before she hit the floor.

"Dr. Brennan! Are you alright?" A shorter, curly-haired man, a dark-haired woman clutching his arm came rushing out of an office to the side and into the lab.

"I'm fine Hodgins. Are you and Angela unharmed?" Brennan questioned, never taking her eyes off Valerie. 

"We're fine sweetie. What the hell happened?" 

Valerie had finally managed to stand, but still clutched the table, and gave Dr. Brennan a glare of her own. A man in a suit wearing a 'Cocky' belt buckle came running through the remains of the doors, gun drawn. 

"FBI! Put your hands up!" the man yelled at her. Valerie sighed, sat back on the table, and put both of her hands up.

 

* * *

 

The interrogation room they put her in the FBI Building was like any other: empty, bland, and boring.

The man who arrested her came into the room. 

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth. I have some questions regarding the Jeffersonian."

A corner of Valerie's mouth raised into a small smirk. "Shoot boss."

"Before we get stared, care to tell me your name?"

"Valerie Breckenridge." Booth gave her a look. "Is there a problem?"

"Valerie Breckenridge is dead. Her bones disappeared when you blew up the Medical-Legal Lab." 

She shook her head. How could she say anything and not get sent to the physic-ward?

"Do you believe in God Agent Booth?"

Booth was thrown off by her question. "Yes? Why does that matter?" Booth was hoping she wasn't one of those crazy 'I have a divine purpose' types. 

"What if I told you where you found those bones? And exactly how that woman died?" 

Sweets began taking though Booth's earpiece. "Play along with this Booth, she's unhinged. I can tell that from here."

Valerie's magically-sharpened hearing picked up what Sweets had said. She glared at the one-way glass, and right at the young psychiatrist.

On the other side of the glass, Lance's blood ran cold. There was no way she heard him, and no possible way should could know where he was on the other side of the glass. Even Brennan seemed unnerved by this woman.

"Ok. Where and how?" Booth asked her.

"An abandoned warehouse by the river. Mostly collapsed, there _should_ be a black motorcycle parked right inside the door, with salt, goofer dust, and sulfur everywhere. She was ripped apart by giant dogs, bigger than wolves, and left to rot. Did I miss anything?"

Booth was silent for a beat. "I didn't think so. You said you believe in God right? So you believe in demons and Hell?" Valerie  sat back in her chair, finding her nails interesting. They were even chipped like they were before she died. 

"Not just demons and Hell, angels and Heaven too. And how are you so certain about all that?" Booth countered. 

Valerie ignored his question. "Angels don't exist. Only demons. But apparently miracles  _do_ happen. Let's just say, a miracle happened to me, and the result is something only a God-fearing man could understand."

Booth, as well as Sweets put two-and-two together. "You think you were raised from the dead?" Booth asked her slowly. 

Valerie gave a broken laugh and a shake of the head. "Stranger things have happened," She flexed her hands. "I've got my strength back. I could walk right out of this building, but I won't for two reasons. One, I don't want to be on the FBI's most wanted list, and I don't want people who are just doing their jobs to get hurt."

"And just how do you think you will walk out of the FBI Building?" Valerie shot him a look of boredom. She held her hand out flat, palm up, and moved it upwards about an inch. The table between her and Booth began levitating. Booth's eyes went wide. "What the hell!?" Valerie laughed. 

"This is child's play. I could blow that door to splinters with a snap of the fingers. But like I said, I don't want anyone to get hurt."

Brennan, Sweets, and Booth couldn't believe what they were seeing. There was a tense moment where everyone was silent, the table still hovering slightly. 

Valerie tipped her chair back, put her hands behind her head, and sighed. As she did so the table landed softly back on the ground. "Look, I don't do this. I don't drag people into the real world. Dragging people into the real world is what gets them eaten, turned inside out, possessed, or worse. It completely ruins their perception on what is real or what really is just a myth. Can you let me go? I'm not dead, and you can't catch the hellhounds that killed me unless you summon them or they're after your ass." 

"Even if I believed you, I can't just let you go. You blew up the Medical-Legal Lab, and the bones are still missing. Besides, with all this Dr. Sweets is going to want to evaluate your mental health." Booth was keeping a cool head, but inside, he was screaming. All this is impossible.

Valerie let her chair fall back on all four legs with a thud. "Fine. Whatever." 

Booth slowly got up from his chair and walked out of the room, rushing to the viewing room to talk to Sweets and Brennan. They would have a rational explanation for what just happened. They had to. 

 

* * *

 

 

Valerie only had to wait a few minutes before a young and lanky man came into the interrogation room. 

"I'm Dr. Lance Sweets. I have been informed of some concerns for your mental health."

Valerie raised an eyebrow at him. "If I get a clean bill, can I go?"

"That depends, Mrs. Breckenridge. I'd like to start by asking a few questions about your childho-"

"No."

A slightly surprised look crossed Lance's face for a second. 

"You know, refusing to talk about it says almost as much as actually telling me."

Valerie's face became an emotionless mask, but her blue-grey eyes were sharp and deadly. "I'm not saying anything because I'm not ending up in a straitjacket, and I don't want your damn pity. You, or anyone else's."

"I won't put you in a psychiatric hospital. I just saw you levitate a table, I'm willing to believe anything you have to say." She stared at him, contemplating what he said. "I'm assuming you know the basics?" She asked.

"That your family, entire family, died in a house fire, that you were in foster care, and continually ran away?" Valerie looked away from him. "Then that's all you're gonna get. Not much else left to say."

"We both know that's not true." She stared at him again, only this time, there was true pain in her eyes, though it was gone as fast as it appeared.

She let out a defeated sigh, followed by a bitter half-smile that more resembled a grimace. "Might as well tell it to a total stranger than someone who knows me and will try and kill me again right?" 

"Why would someone try and kill you?" 

She let out a chuckle. "I'll get to that."

"So then, your childhood."

"I didn't have one. My entire family lived in a huge manor in Massachusetts. And by entire family I mean aunts, uncles, cousins, second and third cousins, their aunts and uncles, all of them. There was close to a hundred people living in that estate, and the people that you would call my mother and father were the heads of the whole bunch."

"The reports of the fire mentioned that. Why did your family all live together?"

Valerie shook her head. "Because they were sick and sadistic motherfuckers."

Sweets' eyebrows raised. "How so?"

"I come from a very old and powerful family of Devil-worshiping witches. The family always came first. Living in the centuries-old manor was easier to do the satanic rituals than everyone coming over to another's house every night. Hell, I know the vaults are still intact. There's hundreds of years of magic woven into the foundations of that house. Whatever started that fire was powerful."

"Your family worshiped the Devil?"

"Lived, breathed, and died for it. When the woman who gave birth to me was pregnant, she drank demon blood, to ensure I would have some measure of demonic powers. After I was born, I was bottle-fed the stuff. Should have killed me, but it didn't. Meant I was gonna be powerful when I got older. Whoopdie-fucking-do."

"You're saying you're half-demon?" Lance was really wishing he knew for a fact that she was crazy.

"To put it in simple terms. My so-called 'childhood' was advanced education, magic study and history, as was the same for all my relatives, though I was the centre for any and all rituals. My older brother was my 'handler', so he had to make sure I didn't have a meltdown and kill everyone."

"What sort of advanced education? And why did you need a 'handler?"

"I'm fluent in most modern European languages, a few older dialects of Asia, Latin, and Enochian. As for him, no clue. I think it was more of an insurance policy than anything."

"Enochian?"

"It's though of as the language of heaven. Some really old spells use it, so I was taught it. Most spells use Latin though."

"How did the house catch fire? Do you remember? Your file said you were young."  

"I remember I was chained to the stone altar, about to have my heart cut out. I was eight." Her eyes had an almost haunted look to them. 

"I know there was a light, so bright I had to bury my face in my arm to try to block it out. I guess I passed out. The next thing I knew I was outside, and the only survivor. They put me in foster care, and counseling. They said I was intelligent and wise beyond my years, though I can attribute that to the demon blood and magical experiments the sons a bitches put me though."

"They didn't say that you were troubled. Your experiences didn't trauma you?"

"They said I was sociopathic. After all of it, I suppose that's not so bad. When I was in foster homes though, that was bad. I got mostly nice families, trying to get me to fit in, but I couldn't function in a loving environment. I alienated myself both in the homes and at the schools I went to. I was years ahead of my peers, and they wouldn't put me in the class I should have been in. I was bored, and I knew the truth."

"The truth of what?"

"That all of it is real. Demons, vampires, werewolves, windigos, magic, demigods, ghosts, all of it. Most all of the creatures everyone says is just legend, is real."

Sweets blinked owlishly at her. "They are?"

"You have no idea. Well, hunters can't kill demons, only banish them back to hell for a few hundred years. I discovered I could kill demons, so I moonlighted as a demon hunter, even into adulthood. Actually, it's what got me killed."

"How did killing demons get you killed?"

"I killed the wrong demons, pissed the powerful ones off, so they sent their dogs after me. I ran for a while, killed a few, but they overwhelmed me."

"That's, well, quite the story." Sweets, Booth, and Brennan were all shocked into silence. 

"Yeah, well. I'm done. Care to let me go now?"

Booth came back into the room. "I'm afraid I can't. I'm sorry."

Valerie narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you absolutely sure?" 

Booth shook his head. "I really can't."

"I'm assuming this is all being recorded?" Booth nodded. "Alright then." Valerie cracked her neck. She threw her hand out and the table flew into both Booth and Sweets, pinning them against the wall. Sh rose from her chair and walked to the door. "This isn't personal, but I just spent the last 440 years on a torture rack in Hell, and I'm not giving up any more of my freedom. If you ever need me to take care of something supernatural, give me a call." Her phone number burned itself into the table as she walked out and into the FBI Building. 

 


	2. No Walls Can Keep Me Protected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valerie escapes the J Edgar Hoover FBI Building, and tries to readjust to being alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another warning, there is a depiction of torture in this chapter.

Dr. Brennan was the one who raised the alarm. 

Valerie rolled her eyes when agents drew their guns at her and demanded she surrender and lay on the floor. With a wave of the hand the agents were pinned to the walls, guns skittering out of reach. 

It was all very easy to walk out, but she knew the consequences, now her face was going to be plastered all over every TV in the DC area, hell maybe even the whole country. 

Once outside the building, Valerie began walking in the direction of the Potomac River, her destination the Jeffersonian. Hoping against hope that her bike was in evidence, and still worked.

 

* * *

 

The Jeffersonian was still in chaos, and all the people running everywhere outside the building proved that. Police had set up a line, stopping the ordinary citizen from coming in.  

Deciding to try and find the loading dock for the bigger antiquities, Valerie headed around the building. 

The police seemed less concerned that people would try and climb the twelve-foot fence and gate that led to the back of the Jeffersonian, so there were no security about, well, as much as Valerie could see anyway. 

Approaching the gate, Valerie gave it an experimental tug. It didn't budge. 

Glancing around, and seeing no one around, she backed up and made a running leap, gaining some momentum to scale the fence. 

She grabbed the fence-rails and hauled herself up and over the metal barrier, sliding partway down the fence, and landing with a soft thud on the concrete. Creeping over to the loading dock door, Valerie tried the personnel door and found it unlocked. Slightly opening it, she poked her head though the door, making sure the coast was clear. What she saw surprised her. 

Her motorcycle, Finem Itineris, was sitting near the door, all polished with the key in the ignition. Running over to her bike, Valerie practically ripped open both saddlebags, finding all of her hunting gear intact, and her suitcase strapped across the back seat.

Valerie opened the loading door and the gate. Climbing on her '42 Indian, she started it up revved the engine, tearing out of the Jeffersonian like a bat out of hell.  

 

* * *

 

Not even a day back alive and Valerie was already back into her old habits.

Valerie sat indian-style on her crappy, lumpy motel bed, her laptop out, open and charging, the TV on some station, and shoving lo mein noodles in her mouth. 

This was all too weird. She never should have been brought back. It _should_ have been impossible. 

After finding a crappy motel somewhere in Maryland, Valerie hauled in all her stuff, then flopped on the bed, and just sat there, taking it all in. She hadn't had time to actually take it all in.

Still, a few hours later, and creeped out by a handprint scar on her left shoulder, Valerie had looked through all of the old and rare books she had, and on the internet, and still had nothing.

 _A powerful demon maybe would have that kind of power, but Christ, all of them hated me._  

Done with her meal, and exhausted, Valerie drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Knives glinted in the dark. Screams echoed and reverberated though her head, through the dark and dank chamber she was in. Valerie pulled on her restraints, desperately trying to be free of this literal hell. A man came in, the door slamming and locking with a loud clang. He approached the stone slab Valerie was tied to. 

"Welcome back. What? You didn't think you were actually out of here did you? If I can't you can't." The sandy blond-haired man picked up a wickedly curved dagger and approached her.

Valerie grit her teeth and stifled a scream when the blade cut into the flesh of her arm. She was tough. This was child's play compared to some of the shit this man did to her.

Another long cut and she bit her tongue and tasted blood. This was the game he played. He would cut away her flesh, and laugh when she screamed. When she did, everything he did was so much worse.

Valerie tried so hard to stay silent. Even she can only take so much. He carved off a small chunk of her flesh, and Valerie let out a blood-curdling scream.

It drug on for hours. Valerie begged and pleaded for him to stop, for mercy, for anything. He would just laugh and call her weak.

She closed her eyes.  She ran out of tears a few hours ago, and she didn't want to see the joy her was getting from her pain.

All of a sudden, it stopped. There was a bright light, and she opened her eyes, only to regret it and close them again. There was a thud, like a body hitting the floor, and calloused fingers brushed against her forehead. The light receded, and her pain and misery vanished.

She opened her eyes to find a trenchcoated man unbuckling the restraints. As soon as she could move, she scrambled off it and grabbed a knife off the tray. She vaguely noticed her torturer slumped on the ground.   

"Who-what are you?" The strange man cocked his head and squinted his bright blue eyes. 

"My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord." His voice was deeper and rougher than she would have thought. Valerie's eyes grew wide at this revelation.  

"No. That's not possible. Angels-"

"Have been mostly absent. The mark on your shoulder, is from me. I raised you from perdition, along with Dean Winchester." He gestured to the man, who was out cold.

"Past tense?" He took a step towards her. She took two steps back and tightened her grip on the blade.  

"Valerie, this is a dream, a nightmare. I'm here to wake you from it." 

Faster than Valerie could comprehend, the 'angel' Castiel placed his fingertips on her forehead again, and the world went black. 

 

* * *

 

Gasping and bolting upright, Valerie frantically looked around the dingy motel room. No daylight peeked through the dirty curtains, so it was either very early morning or still late at night. There was, however, a tall coated shadow standing at the end of her bed. 

With no weapon, Valerie summoned a ball of fire in both hands. The light illuminated the intruder's face, and she found it to be the mysterious 'angel' from her dream.

"Castiel." she stated.

"Hello Valerie. Perhaps you believe me? I'm aware you can sense other demons." 

One fire was extinguished. "Why rescue me from Hell? A Winchester I understand, but me? You realise what I am, yes? I'm an abomination. 

Castiel squinted. I was tasked to raise Dean. You have power, and have turned it against demons before. The first seal has been broken. The Winchesters could use your aid and knowledge." He left it unspoken that he saw a certain light and purity in her soul, despite her corrupted nature, that prompted him to raise her as well.

"Dean Winchester is the man that broke me, isn't it? The one from my dream?" The angel nodded. Her eyes grew wide. 

"If you think I'm gonna help that sadistic son of a-"

"You need not now. I understand he caused you great distress. You may take your time, they are a few days from here." 

Valerie scoffed. "I think I'm gonna need more than a few days. I was in Hell for over two hundred  _years_. He-" She choked back a sob.

_I am not going to cry. Not in front of a fucking angel. I am not weak._

Castiel sat on the bed next to her and gently grabbed her shoulders. Tear filled blue-grey eyes locked with his. "You are not weak. You have endured more than any human should be capable of. He will not harm you." The angel's gaze was intense as he studied her face. "You must rest. You need your strength back. Res now, I will keep your memories at bay." Another forehead touch and Valerie slumped against him, out cold.

Slightly surprised, Castiel just sat there and blinked for a second, before laying her back down. He stood from the bed, and with a flap of his wings, he was gone, though his mark on her shoulder allowed him to keep an eye on her.

He would give her the time she needs, but Castiel knew that the brothers would need her help to stop Lilith from breaking the seals. Heaven might come looking for her, but they didn't save her as a child only to kill her now. 

Castiel needed to go to Dean. There was work to be done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is kinda choppy. I wanted to move things forward a bit.


	3. Oh, the Queen of Peace Always Does Her Best to Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valerie runs into Castiel again, and agrees to help.

This sleep was dreamless. When Valerie woke, it was late in the morning. This was the best she felt since even before she died. Stretching, she yawned.

Valerie climbed out of the old motel bed, and padded over to the bathroom, grabbing a change of clothes and her toiletry bag.

Around twenty minutes later, Valerie emerged out of the bathroom, freshly showered and clothed. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she began to French braid her wet hair. She turned on the 30-something year old TV and put it on the news.

The news anchors for the DC area began flashing a photo of her, and explaining that she was wanted by the FBI for questioning. The wanted woman scoffed and rolled her eyes.

Finished braiding her hair, she turned the TV on mute and repacked all of her things. It was really strange, all of her things were intact, nothing was expired, and everything was neat and packed.

_It must have been Castiel. How else would my bike still run, be gassed up, and packed?_

Deciding it was probably best to leave the area, she turned off the TV, and grabbed everything, and headed out to her bike.

The sun was already high overhead, she had slept a lot longer than she had anticipated. Securing her duffle bag to the back of the classic Indian, she slipped into her leather jacket, strapped on her helmet, and climbed on. The engine roared to life at the turn of a key.

She stopped by the lobby, and dropped off the key to her room. She kept her helmet on, though she just flipped up the visor. They had the news on in the lobby as well, and Valerie quickly jumped back on her bike and sped away, wanting to put as much distance between her and DC as she could.

 

* * *

 

 

Oh, how she had missed this. The open road, the freedom of it. Her beloved bike always there, getter her to places she had never been, or far away from the danger behind her, and sometimes, rushing her headfirst into almost certain death.

Valerie really didn’t care where she was, nor did she really know. She just drove north of Washington, beyond that, just the fact she was topside again made her elated.

It was getting late, the sun sinking low over the horizon. She wasn’t tired, but when a sign saying a small town was ahead ten miles, she pulled into the gas station, filled up her tank and made her way to the diner across the street.

It was the typical Ma & Pa diner that any small town in America had, a 50’s theme, most likely all original and authentic. After sitting down and ordering a chicken sandwich, Valerie put her arms on the counter, and sighed.

The waitress looked up at her.

“Rough day sweetheart?” She asked Valerie.

She raised her gaze to the older woman. “I guess you could say that. I’m just glad to be back.”

“Back? I’ve always lived in this town, I’d remember a girl as pretty as you, and so would all the boys.”

“No, not here, just….back. Back on the open road, and back into the real world. I’ve been gone for too long.”

The waitress noticed her helmet sitting on the counter next to Valerie, and the World War II military grade bike outside.

“You just get back from the war?”

Valerie grimaced. “You could say that.”

“Life isn’t always hell, sweetheart. It gets better, trust me. It might seem pretty bad sometimes, but then the only place you can go is up.” She smiled at the younger woman.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Her food was sat in front of her, and she dug in. This was first time she had eaten all day, and was much hungrier than she had thought. All of a sudden, the lights flickered, and there was a flap of wings. Immediately put on alert, Valerie looked around, and found Castiel in the seat next to her.

“Hello Valerie.” She turned in her seat to see him better.

“Hello Castiel. I didn’t think I’d see you again anytime soon, or at all, actually.” She took a bite of her sandwich.

“I raised you from perdition. We share a profound bond. Of course you would see me again.” The divine being squinted and cocked his head to the side. It reminded Valerie of a confused puppy.

She almost choked on her food. “Gah, what? What’s this about a bond?” He blinked at her. “You bear my handprint on your shoulder. I also saved you from eternal damnation. I went through the effort, I will make sure it’s not for naught.” The few people still in the diner were giving the pair odd looks. The waitress approached Castiel.

“What can I get ya sweetheart?” she asked.

Castiel’s attention snapped to the woman.

“I do not require any sustenance.” The waitress looked taken aback. “Well, if you need anything, just holler.” She grabbed her coffee pot and scurried away.

“Look, I’m grateful, I am, but just let me finish eating, and then we can go somewhere not populated by the ignorant masses.” She whispered to the angel. Castiel glanced around, and saw everyone shooting them strange looks, or trying to make it look like they were looking elsewhere. “Very well.” He grumbled in return.

The rest of Valerie’s meal was eaten in silence, though unnerving as Castiel stared at her. Valerie tried to ignore him, though she snuck glances and found him studying her.

Valerie paid for her meal, and told the waitress goodbye, but not before inquiring about a motel on the other side of the little town.

Walking out to her bike with Castiel in tow, Valerie climbed on, started it up and grabbed her helmet, preparing to put it on. She looked up to Castiel, and raised an eyebrow. “You coming or what?” He did the squint and head tilt again. “I’m an angel, I can fly.”

Valerie scoffed. “I’m aware of that. Just get on the damn bike.” She put her charcoal grey helmet on, and buckled the strap as Castiel carefully seated himself on the classic motorcycle behind her. Valerie flipped her visor up. “Grab my waist so you don’t fall off. When I lean, lean with me, but not too much or we’ll crash. It’s just across town, so shouldn’t be too hard. Oh, and keep as still as possible.” She flipped it back down, and felt two very large hands gently grip her waist. She tried not to let it bother her by the fact he could almost wrap his hands all the way around it. Damn, she didn’t really realize how much she dwarfed him. Valerie was petite yes, but there was hellfire behind such a small woman. Many a dumbass demon, monster or drunk creep had taken her small stature as weakness, but when they were ash, or crying in pain on the floor, they soon realized not to fuck with her.

The trip across the town took less than five minutes, and in ten, Valerie was checked in and hauling her saddlebags into the motel room. Much like the diner, the motel had a fifties theme. Throwing her bags into the chair at the table, she sat on the bed, finding it not to be as lumpy as she would have thought.

Castiel shut the door, and looked at her expectantly.

“Right, first. What the fuck is up with this bond shit?”

“I raised you from perdition. Like it or not, I will watch over you from now on.”

“So the handprint on my shoulder is yours?” He nodded. God, it practically consumed her entire shoulder.

There was a moment of silence. “About that asshole you want me to help…” she trailed off.

“I believe your abilities and knowledge would be invaluable to the Winchesters. Heaven has tasked them with stopping the coming apocalypse.”

“The actual apocalypse?” Valerie questioned slowly. “What other one would there be?” the angel seemed confused by her question.

“Well. Shit.”

“It is a bad thing, yes. That’s why we are trying to stop it.”

“You _do_ know what he did to me right? And you just expect me to help him? I don’t even want to know what would happen if I saw him.” She shuddered

“Dean will not harm you, I swear it.” Valerie weighed her options. She couldn’t just let the apocalypse rage unchecked. Valerie knew she had to help. Maybe it would make up for the fact that she was an abomination.  

She sighed deeply. “Alright. I’ll help. But he gets one chance. _One._ And that’s it.”

“Understandable. I will fly you somewhere if he causes you stress or pain.”

“Why do you care so much?”

The question threw the angel off. His emotionless façade cracked ever so slightly.

The witch’s eyes narrowed at him as she stood up.

“I was supposed to stay in Hell, wasn’t I?”

Castiel bowed his head in defeat.

“It made no sense that an Archangel would order your rescue as a child but condemn you as an adult.”

She was so taken aback Valerie actually stumbled and fell back on the bed. “The fire…” she whispered.

“I was ordered to rescue a small girl from a ritual where she would be sacrificed to summon the horsemen. The fire was set as a result of my grace. I placed you in the yard where you were found. I saw not an abomination, but a truly unique soul of someone tainted by demons, but only the surface. Why Michael let you even be dragged to Hell has puzzled me.”

“And Heaven knows nothing of this?”

“No.”

“And if I were to be discovered alive?”

They would most likely kill me and possibly you.”

“Fucking wonderful.”  

“If you assist the Winchesters in a way that is invaluable, they have to let you live.”

“You don’t care about yourself?”

Castiel sighed and looked her right in the eye. “Don’t worry about me.

Valerie huffed and shook her head. “Where are they at anyway?”

“Pontiac, Illinois.”

“Alright. Let me get some shut eye and I’ll make my way there eventually.” She yawned.

Without another word, though not without a flap of wings, Castiel vanished.

Valerie didn’t even care she was still fully clothed. This conversation exhausted her, do she toed her boots off and shed a few layers of jackets and shirts and was left in jeans, socks, and a t-shirt. She climbed under the covers, and snapped her fingers to lock the door and shut off the lights. Her mind was racing after all this, and really wished Castiel would come back and knock her out again.

After tossing a turning for a few hours, sleep finally took her.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated!


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